Sermons on the Edge of Time: A Sands of Time Aside
by espritduo
Summary: The sands do not always fall in the same way, or in the same time. Herein are echoes from a future not yet written. Listen to the Prophet, for her words ring of truths untold. The Sands of Time will return soon, but for now please enjoy a glimpse into the deeper, mythical currents running through this tale, as spoken by an unknown oracle some time after the events of FFVI.
1. The Crystal Cosmogony and Call to Arms

The Crystal Cosmogony and the Call to Arms

"In the beginning there was the Void, and in the end there shall still be the Void. This vast expanse is all there is and is comprised of naught but darkness and emptiness. Scattered throughout the infinitude of the Void must be an equal infinitude of meager fluctuations, tiny knots of concentrated darkness. Dark matter, some may call the non-substance of these primordial nexi. From these twists of the Void are born entire worlds, separate realities unto themselves, awash as islands of light in a fathomless sea of night. They are birthed, live, grow old, and yes, die, surrounded always by the cold embrace of the Void. These cosmic gyrations eventually separate into discrete layers as well, and thus the great Powers of a world are manifested. Fire, water, earth, wind, ice, lightning, life, and always death . . . what we call the "elements" congeal and crystallize from the merest trickle of the lifeblood of the Void. It is from these voidshards that we owe our existence, so far removed from the black furnace of creation and destruction above and beyond. For what are we mortals but the merest motes, nothing but the finely settled dust of an endless shifting of sands in some monstrous crystalline hourglass?

It is only by the grace of these discrete Powers, these elementals, these crystallized gods that we are allowed to exist and thrive. But it is only by the silent acquiescence of the eternal Void that the gods exist themselves. Who was it that set our own particular hourglass turning? Perhaps life, the highest and most primeval of elements, the holy antithesis to the dark reach of the Void, is only a stretching of the dark matter inherent to space, a give to the take of the Void. Yes, the Void is truly the master taker, who devours all and gives nothing in return. Life, then, is the fundamental resistance to that pull. The Void seeks to pull all of itself into itself, endlessly, without any thought, if such a thing as the Void can be said to possess such an abstraction, to the insignificant beings caught in its insatiable descent into oblivion and pure chaos. Life is the hardening of the Void's own being, as it is stretched taught. Where there is the ceaseless, inevitable, grasping darkness of the death force of destruction that embodies the Void's will, there _must_ then be that crystallizing life force always yearning backwards, away from that gaping maw of the abyss that reaches from beyond the lowest depth of Hell itself.

We give names to these eternal machinations to comfort us in our sleep. We call them magic, elements, gods, goddesses, life, death, heaven, hell. We give them titles that are as ancient as fear and hope themselves - Altimus, Janus, the Void, the Nexus, the Crystal. Other eddies in the churning maelstrom of the Void surely have their own names for their own distinct powers that be, for there is nothing in any world as frightening as a thing with no name. But it is all a series of fantasies without end, propagations appearing for a brief moment throughout the Void wherever the pull of life is strongest. Will there ever be a final fantasy, a zero world at the end of time where all stories must end? Will the Void's darkness someday win out over the Crystal's light? That needs must be a tale for another time and place. For now, the insignificant grains of sand that we are must look to our own world, our own fantasy within the chaos-born dream, our own little hourglass with its fragile crystal wall against the clawing Void beyond. We must believe in the time we have, even as we see the cracks starting to show in our tired, ruined world. We must not let fear in. Our hope holds the very foundations of our reality together against the storm in the night.

We are all warriors of the light, shining our will to live in the face of inescapable death as a beacon across the bleak face of an uncaring, unfeeling cosmos. So yell into the Void's mindless stare and do not be afraid! Do not succumb to the night! Believe that our life's brilliance will shine forever, and by the force of our dreams we shall ensure the light of the Crystal endures until that last, final fantasy waiting at the end of all things arrives to wake the sleeper in the dark and end his grand dream. The dream of life and light must end someday, yes, but until then, we shall rage against that dying of the light! Rage, my fellow warriors, and never let our memories be forgotten!"

_-recorded on the Hill of Despair during the final sermon of the Prophet of Eden, AF 32._


	2. The Goddess

The Goddess Astarte, False Bringer of Light

Before the proper time for beginnings, before the true Light descended on our world, there was one who sought to cover all with her own light. It was a glorious light, but cold, and cruel. This false light was known as a goddess to the dark savages she appeared before. No, not a goddess, _the_ Goddess. For she did not allow the existence of the other gods. There was no power but her power, no glory but glory to her, and no Light but her own light. This was the desire of the Goddess, known as Astarte to her people.

In these dark times of today, we know of no gods or goddesses, but they are always with us, guiding us towards the Light, along the path of the Crystal. Such was the way of the world before the true Light came. People lived as animals, without society, without civilization, but without the sorrows and pain that knowledge can bring as well. It was not time yet, as decreed by the true Lightbringer, for man to know such things. We were not ready. And so we remained in the darkness of ignorance, and were happy for the time being.

But there was one who disagreed with the Lightbringer, and sought to bring her own light to the darkness. She ignored the commands of her other gods and descended in a rapture of light and beauty, dazzling the dim world that was not prepared for such divine visions. Oh, how we worshipped her! Oh, how we bent before her might! She was all we knew of such higher planes of existence, and that was as she desired. She wanted all our praise and love for herself, with nothing, not even the knowledge of their existence allowed for the other gods. The Balance had been disrupted and corrupted. The Light of the Crystal dimmed as the light of the Goddess blazed.

In time, the Goddess created her own society, her own nation within the greater mortal world, and called it Astarte, after herself. She ruled as the absolute center of all creation, the bringer of all light. Her people knew nothing else beyond her, and that was as she desired. Her desire, her greed, her lust for power was all-consuming. She demanded more from her people. More of themselves, more worship, more golden idols, more must be created for her, in her image. More must be given. More, and more!

At the height of the Goddess Astarte's empire of herself, she demanded that all be given for her. Her subjects must give themselves utterly to her to be worthy. They must sacrifices their very lives to win her favor. And they did. For they knew nothing else. She desired all, and her people in their blindness before her light, gave all. And there was great darkness for a time in the world of Astarte. People killed each other, and blood flowed down the golden temples and through the golden streets. There was light everywhere, but it burned coldly, destroying all who basked in it.

And then she did what must not be done. She created something that was forbidden. Tired of the deaths of mere mortals, she wished for something greater to be created in her honor. She wished for an immortal Herald, before such a thing was allowed to exist. Among her most devoted fanatics she chose the most devout of all. Her name was Marilith, and she gave her life willingly to the Goddess, to be one with her Goddess, and was rewarded like none before her for her unwavering faith.

Marilith's holy union with her Goddess was a dark and forbidden thing. The other gods had looked elsewhere while their sister had committed the many grievous sins among her people, for it was not in their way to meddle among mortals before the proper time. But this was an abomination that could not be. The Demon Wife Marilith was a vile thing, a gross mockery of the Goddess herself, said to be in the form of a great fiery serpent with human limbs uncountable. And these arms wielded only fire and blood for those who beheld her terrible beauty. Marilith was undying herself, but throughout the land of Astarte she caused deaths untold with her divine blades. And this was as the Goddess desired, for all deaths were done in her name and for her glory.

The bloodbath could not be allowed to continue, or the realm of man would be wiped from the face of the planet, and the Balance would be destroyed, the Light of the Crystal snuffed out like a candle by the fiery winds of Marilith and her Goddess. And so the gods did what must be done. The Goddess was sealed away by her own kind, so that her light would not flood the world and drown mankind. Without their divine Goddess, the people of Astarte scattered and faded into history, a mere footnote to the great empires that would come afterwards, in their proper time and place according to the Balance.

Of Marilith's fate, no one can say. She faded into time like the other followers of Astarte. Perhaps the Demon Wife of Astarte was trapped alongside her Goddess, united forever in their prison of false light and stone. Perhaps she still crawls beneath the deepest parts of our world like the wyrm she is, hiding from the true Light and waiting for a time that she can rise again, to bring the false light of her Goddess to the world once more, in fire and blood.

_-recorded during the so-called "Eight Sermons" tour of the Prophet of Eden, AF 31._


End file.
